“I will stop you.”
AU: Moriarty succeeds in burning Sherlock’s heart out.
some rainy days, I could swear you’re walking through our door
still, I look up - all that meets my stare is nothing at all.
“You repel me.”
It isn’t logical, it certainly isn’t practical, it’s almost certainly not healthy, but it makes it so much easier. John’s support bolsters Sherlock, his questions ground him, his presence gives him a buffer from the derision and the cold, reluctant acquiescence that comes with the job, and lets him focus his thoughts, bend them toward a single locus of inquiry: John. Sherlock knows that John is just a manifestation of his own thought processes coalesced into a desired outcome. It’s a falsehood, childish and indulgent at best and maybe, someday, dangerous at worst. But he looks up and John is there — always there — and John watches him and answers him, a grounding to the ceaseless lightning-bright crash of racing white noise inside his head, the silence to a storm he’s tried to soothe before in ways far more perilous than this. John makes it okay, he makes it better. And for Sherlock, that’s enough.
written by Ginny (aka light of my tumblr life)
“A kill shot like that over that distance from that sort of weapon, you’re looking for a crack shot but not just a marksman, his hands musn’t have shaken at all so clearly he’s acclimatised to violence. He didn’t fire until I was in immediate danger so obviously has a strong moral principle. You’re looking for someone probably with a history of military service and nerves of steel …”